Read Flameseeker (Book 3) Online
Authors: R.M. Prioleau
She nodded slowly. “Not long after he bound the elemental,
I sensed a sudden power spike in him. The divine presence took hold of him
and—”
“So you are saying you felt it when Kaijin had his
enemy restrained?”
“Yes, but it is more than that—”
“He needs to be pushed further, then. I must know—
we
must know if he is capable of such power when he has reached his own limit and
his life depends on it.”
Ranaiah hardened her gaze. “Enough, Vargas. His
training is over today. For now, he will rest.”
Vargas gritted his teeth. “Sometimes I think you
hold too many feelings for that
boy,
Priestess.”
She fumed. “Your continuous disrespect for me
seems to have gotten worse since Kaijin arrived. I will not hesitate to replace
you if this persists.”
He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then closed
it and, in a huff, stormed out of the chamber through an exit from the platform.
Ranaiah watched him and sighed, turning back to
Kaijin, who still appeared visibly shaken from the ordeal.
He spoke to you again, didn’t He, Kaijin?
She pursed her lips.
I will find out what He is trying to tell you ... and I
will help you.
Jarial awoke to the sound of his familiar’s
yowling, aided by the furry touch of repeated pawing at his face. He stirred
and yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Oh, by the gods, Sable. What is
it now?” he muttered.
Sable hissed again and licked her upper lip. Her
head snapped to the window, where the first rays of the morning sun had begun
to pour in. She hopped off the bed, padded to the window, and leaped to the
windowsill where she sat, lashing her tail about.
Her nervousness prodded him awake. He rolled out
of bed and put his pants on. “I swear, this had better be good, for waking me
up so early like this,” he grumbled as he approached her.
He peered out the window. All seemed quiet in the
early-morning city.
Sable projected to him a sense of death in the
air. Animals were more sensitive to that than humans, and Jarial had no doubt
that what she sensed was real.
He looked at her more seriously.
“What’s
happened, Sable? Who’s dead?”
he asked her, switching from speech to
telepathy.
Sable meowed in response, then hopped off the windowsill
and padded to the door.
Jarial finished getting dressed, grabbed his
essential belongings, and quickly followed her out of the inn. Once they were
in the streets, Sable ran far ahead of him, out of sight but not beyond the
reach of their telepathic link. Jarial rushed through the marketplace in his
familiar’s wake, past idle gawkers and vendors who were beginning to set up
shop for the day.
Eventually, Jarial caught up with Sable, who had
stopped and sniffed the air. Jarial staggered to a halt, panting, exhaustion
beginning to overtake him. Even his illusion spell of youth could never make
him young inside. While he rested, he caught wind of a conversation between two
passing city guards.
“ ... Yeah, Holston said the young man came
rushing through the eastern gates, demanding help. Something about a death,
methinks,” one guard said.
“Gods, I hope not,” the other guard said. “Not
this close to the mages’ big event.”
“Well, Commander Lizbeth is on the job, so I’m
sure we will hear the details soon enough.”
Jarial held his breath.
A death?
He turned
to Sable, but the cat had run off again. Apparently she had sensed something
more about this mysterious death that Jarial did not. His legs felt heavy, but
he managed to resume a fast jog. Startled residents moved out of his way and
watched him curiously as he hurried by.
Sable led him to the city’s eastern gates and out
toward the outskirts, where the city buildings gave way to small farmsteads. She
finally sped away out of his line of sight, but he could still feel her presence.
Unable to go any farther, Jarial stopped a moment to catch his breath.
He doubled over, his lungs sucking greedily at the
manure-smelling air.
Gods, I’m too old for this....
As he straightened again, he glimpsed a group of
city guards approaching, headed toward the town. Curious, Jarial stepped off
the main path to allow them passage. In the midst of the group was a
tarpaulin-covered mass being carried on a litter.
As the group passed, the leader, a woman, nodded
to him in greeting. She and the rest of the group bore the colors and crescent
moon emblem of the Ghaeldorund guards.
Jarial returned the nod, and then turned his
attention toward the large covered object, which took two guards to carry.
Sable followed behind the group of guards, meowing.
One of the men suddenly sneezed. He glanced over
his shoulder, then attempted to shoo Sable away with his foot. “Go on, cat! Get
out of here!”
Undeterred, Sable meowed again.
“I said ‘go’!” His nose twitched.
Jarial ran to Sable and scooped her up. “Sorry
about that, sir,” he said to the guard.
The leader stopped and turned, prompting her detachment
to follow suit. “Who are you talking to, Alan?”
Alan’s eyes darted between his leader and Jarial.
“No one important, Commander.” He sneezed again.
Jarial inclined his head. “My apologies, sir.”
Alan sniffed. “Right. Keep your pet away from me,
if you would be so kind.”
The woman approached them. She gave Alan a piercing
glance, then turned and studied Jarial. She was middle-aged and had a hard
face, as though she’d seen her share of battles. Upon her head lay a majestic
silver circlet bearing Dragon designs, with a glistening ruby inlaid in the
center inset. She tucked a lock of her dirty-blond hair behind her ear and narrowed
her keen hazel eyes.
“May I
help
you, good sir?” she asked
sharply.
Jarial cleared his throat and straightened. “No,
not at all, m’lady. I was just looking for my lost cat. I seem to have found
her.” He smiled slightly.
The woman’s expression remained hard. “Good. Then
please refrain from harassing my men. Besides, Alan hates cats.”
Jarial’s smile faded. He looked briefly toward the
covered object on the litter then back to her.
It looks large enough to be a
human body.
“M’lady, I am a mage of the Citadel. Do you require any
assistance?”
Her eyebrows rose. “The Citadel, you say? That is
most unfortunate, for we are on our way there now bearing grave news.”
* * *
Students and faculty swarmed the main hall. Jarial
glanced around, hoping to spot Omari, but he couldn’t find him.
Omari isn’t
here. By the Goddess, I hope he’s not—
He glanced again at the covered
litter, and his heart pounded.
Sable wove between his legs, purring anxiously in
the wake of the students’ commotion. She didn’t care for large crowds and the
noise that usually stemmed from them, so she remained beside Jarial.
The tension in the hall rose as the group of
guards laid the covered body in the center of a mosaic circle, on the floor.
Upon arrival of the guards, some of the administration immediately fetched the
Councilmembers from their quarters. Burke stood in the center of the circle
with the commander, while the remaining Councilmembers took their places around
the circle.
Ignoring the students’ chatter, Jarial pushed past
the crowd and wiggled his way over to Maira.
The commander and Burke spoke briefly in hushed
tones, and then Burke’s face paled. He lowered his head to hide his pained
expression. The commander gathered her convoy and quietly left. Burke slowly
knelt before the body and pulled back the tarpaulin.
“Oh gods! It’s Master Faulk!” one of the faculty
cried.
A wave of gasps and sad murmurs echoed throughout
the hall, and then all went deathly silent.
Na’val.
Jarial swallowed a lump in his
throat. The old man had died with a frightened expression on his face. His dark
brown eyes were outlined in crust, and tear tracks streaked broth cheeks. His
pale wrinkled face and thick salt-and-pepper beard were smeared with blood and
dirt. His teal robes were torn, the tattered hems seared black. The embroidered
emblem of the Citadel on the breast of his robes had been ripped away,
revealing a throwing knife lodged deep in the flesh of his chest. Streaks of
dried blood coated the silver blade.
Maira placed her hand over her mouth and closed
her eyes, sobbing softly. Tears fell down her reddened cheeks.
Jarial sighed, holding back his own tears from his
burning eyes. Though he barely had known Na’val, Citadel mages all held a close
bond and level of respect for one another. Even Virgil, whom Jarial despised
greatly, still held a small place in his heart.
‘Bad omen,’
Jarial thought, remembering what
Elder Burke had said of Kaijin
. Could this be what the elder meant?
Sable rubbed the side of her face on Jarial’s
calf, purring intensely, tickling him.
Jarial frowned at his familiar.
“No, we may not
go home now. Be more considerate.”
She gave him a pleading look, her pupils widening
slightly, then she lowered her body to the ground and looked elsewhere.
Burke studied Na’val’s corpse for several moments,
then said solemnly, “Words cannot describe this grave atrocity that has
befallen us this day.” He carefully pulled the knife from Na’val’s chest.
Sobs and cries rose from almost everyone. Some
turned away from the scene and quickly left, unable to bear the sight any
longer.
Jarial remained in place beside Maira, his eyes
fixed on Burke and the ornate dagger in his hands. The pommel had a symbol or
rune etched upon it. Before Jarial could attempt to decipher it, Burke wrapped
the dagger in a white cloth, approached Garmin, who stood on the outer circle,
and gave it to him.
Burke replaced the tarpaulin back over Na’val’s
body and stood. He scanned the room, not looking at anyone in particular.
“Na’val Faulk was a fine and honorable man, respected and loved by all. May he
rest peacefully.” He pointed to two students and gestured for them to take up
the body. The two male students complied without hesitation, carefully
gathering Na’val’s body and following the elder down the unlit halls that led
to the burial grounds.
* * *
The Citadel mages were allowed to pay their
respects to Na’val before his body was placed in the temporary stasis that
would keep it from rotting before the burial. Jarial made his tributes brief,
then, while the place was still in an uproar, scoured the halls for Omari.
However, the young mage was nowhere to be found. Jarial finally gave up and left
the Citadel. He returned to his inn room and stayed there for the remainder of
the day. The Citadel would hold a formal memorial service for Na’val in the
coming days, and afterward, Jarial made up his mind to leave Ghaeldorund for
good. The sight of Na’val’s corpse remained vivid in Jarial’s mind as he
pondered the day’s events. A dark cloud of grief was over the Citadel. The
death of a prestigious mage struck a cruel blow in everyone’s hearts, including
his own. Overcome with a deep depression, Jarial sat hunched over at his desk,
his elbows propped up and his face buried in his hands as the images replayed
in his mind.
Sable wove between his legs and meowed softly, trying
to get his attention, but Jarial shoved her away with his foot. She finally
leapt onto the desk and, purring loudly, wriggled her head between his propped
elbows and licked at his hands.
The tickling sensation of her rough tongue made
him jump in surprise and uncover his face.
She meowed, attempting to reassure him, then
licked the tip of his nose.
Jarial wanted to smile—he tried very hard—but the
thoughts of the earlier events prevented him from doing so.
“I should have
never come back. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. The pressures of the
Council, Na’val’s death ... Maybe it’s not too late to leave now.”
She meowed in response and began giving herself a
bath.
He watched her briefly, and he tried to calm his
mind his mind from drifting to other darker thoughts of his past life. He
reached out and ran his fingers over her sleek fur.
Just as a measure of peace began to return to his
wounded heart, a frantic knocking at the door shattered his meditations. He
jumped, and Sable leaped up and hissed.
Another series of knocks sounded, and a muffled
voice called out through the door, “Master Glace? Master Glace? Are you there?”
Omari!
Jarial sprang up from his desk and
rushed to open the door. There stood Omari, pale-faced and terrified. Percival
sat on his shoulder, giving Jarial an apprehensive stare.
Jarial looked beyond Omari to ensure the young man
wasn’t followed, then he ushered him inside and locked the door. “What are you
doing here, Omari?”
“I came to find you, sir,” Omari replied.
“Terrible, what happened today ...”
Jarial scowled. “Where were you, anyway? I didn’t
see you amongst the students.”
“I ...” He hung his head and sighed. “I had gone
out late last night to look for Master Faulk. I went to all of our spots
outside of town that Master Faulk used to take me for training. I eventually found
him in a cave, rope-bound. He was alive. He told me he was being held captive
for questioning about my whereabouts.”
“What!” Jarial exclaimed. “Whatever for?”
Omari frowned. “I do not know. But I managed to
free him, and we were making our way out of the cave when we were ambushed by a
man with his face covered. He threw a dagger at me. Master Faulk moved in front
of me and tried to cast a shield spell around us, but he was not fast enough.
The dagger struck him in the chest, and he collapsed. He told me in dying
breaths to run and find help. I fled, and the assassin tried to attack me with
another throwing dagger. The blade struck the back of my shoulder pretty deep.”
He rubbed the back of his right shoulder. “I kept running and did not look back.
As soon as I reached the gates, I alerted the guards there.
“Afterward, I sought out a healer to mend my injury.
That was why I was not at the Citadel when the commotion happened there.”
Jarial digested the information.
The guards.
He recalled the group he’d encountered on the main road.
So that was Omari’s
doing.
“Why would someone intentionally try to kill you?”
Omari pursed his lips. “I do not know, but I
intend to find out.” His expression hardened. “Moreover, while I was searching
the Citadel for you, I got caught up in another argument with Saris.”
Jarial raised an eyebrow. “Saris Beshara? Is he
still
bothering you, after all these years?” Saris had been Omari’s nemesis for as
long as Jarial had known Omari.
“Unfortunately so,” Omari replied with a scowl.